Camlann
by Liv Tinuviel
Summary: We all know how the story ends. Arthur kills Mordred even as Mordred wounds Arthur fatally. Here is my version of the events leading up to that moment, stopping just shy of the Final Battle.


_Sir Leon of Camelot bowed to his Queen as he completed his report. The battle had raged for days, until Camelot's army, lead by golden King Arthur, had routed their enemies. Queen Guinevere, strong and resilient though she was, relaxed back into her throne and heaved a sigh of relief. Brave face aside, she had been terrified for her husband, who faced what had seemed to be an unbeatable army: a force of the scattered remains of conquered foes, with a few disillusioned Druids, lead by a fearsome pair: Morgan le Fey, once the Lady Morgana and Gwen's beloved mistress, and Mordred, the boy Druid who had pushed the limits of his terrifying magic until the day when he pushed too far and thus lost it. He had come to Camelot, then, disguised as a squire, and had trained under Arthur himself. Arthur had even knighted the boy, and given him a seat at the famous Round Table. Sir Medraut, as he had been called, had been looked upon with distrust by Lancelot and Gwaine, who could not convince Arthur of their suspicions until Merlin caught the young knight sneaking into the dungeons to take council with a recently capture sorceress. Arthur had believed them then, and banished the boy, despite those knights who would have seen him executed for what he had done._

_

* * *

_

Merlin, working late despite Arthur's strict instructions to get a solid night's sleep, heard a light step in the corridor outside his workroom. Unable, as ever, to leave his curiosity unsatisfied, Merlin quietly opened his door, just a crack, and saw a dark figure – too slim to be Arthur – slip behind the tapestry that hung on the far wall of the passage.

"What are you up to? And more importantly, who are you?" he mused silently. "Not attempting a rescue, I hope – that witch was really hard to capture. Really hard." Deciding that the mystery was more than enough to draw him from his work, Merlin followed the figure down the passageway that was concealed behind the tapestry – a passageway he had thought to be a secret known to only himself and the King.

When he finally reached the end of the passage, he found himself (as he had known he would) in the dungeons, having quite handily bypassed the guards, and hid in the shadows, armed with a listening spell.

"My Lady," the figure whispered as he knelt before the woman in the cell. She started at the sound of the low voice, and stepped forward to get a closer look at the speaker, her blond hair shinning in the moonlight.

"I knew you would come. There is much to discuss."

"Of course, my Lady. The King, in his great mercy," said with a sneer that Merlin could hear even without the aid of his magic, "has decreed that you are to be kept here, alive, under magical and armed guard, until such a time as you repent of your evil ways. The Great Merlin himself has set the wards." Merlin heard contempt and hatred in the boy's voice – for boy it was – and realized he knew the speaker, but could not quite place him.

"I know. I have requested an audience with the King and Queen. I believe I am to see them on the morrow. This cannot be allowed to happen –"

"No, my Lady. Fear not. I can get you out, though I shall need a day or so to weaken Emrys so that his magic cannot maintain the wards."

Merlin started, as he placed the voice, and did not need the prisoner's harsh exclamation to confirm his guess.

"Mordred! You do not understand. Morgana weakens, seeing the tolerance her brother has established. Yet he will never bow to magic as he should, and must be replaced. My sister must take her rightful place so that those with magic may take theirs. We cannot restore your magic until we have that power. A sacrifice must be made. Promise me that if I do this, you will see that Morgana does not falter. It must not be in vain."

"I swear it, Lady Morgause. I will help in any way that I can. Good luck, my lady." Mordred bowed his head, and abruptly turned to leave. Merlin stood waiting for him to pass, hidden by the shadows and his magic, then hurriedly followed him back up the passageway, turning off down a corridor he knew lead to Arthur's workroom.

Knocking the shield that covered the entrance to the ground, and falling out the opening with his limbs askew, Merlin looked up to see Arthur, sword in hand, his face changing from an expression of fierce challenge to intense amusement.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep tonight. Idiot," Arthur tossed over his shoulder as he turned to set his sword down.

"I noticed you're still up, Sire, and what kind of servant would I be if I went to bed before my master?" Merlin quipped automatically, before assuming a grave expression.

"Merlin, what is it?" Arthur asked, noting the change.

"I've just been down to the dungeons and overhead quite an interesting chat…"

* * *

The next morning, Merlin watched as Arthur and Gwen entered the main hall, arm-in-arm. Though Gwen was smiling serenely at the court, Merlin thought she looked slightly concerned, and realized that Arthur had passed on his information. His observations were cut short, however, when the doors were once again thrown open, and Morgause entered, flanked by Sir Percival and Sir Medraut.

"Lady Morgause, you have requested an audience with myself and my Queen. Do you believe your sentence to be unjust?" Arthur asked, his shoulders tense as he waited for whatever trick she was planning.

"No, indeed, Prince. I do not deny that the sentence may be just, if it is deserved, only your authority to enforce it. Morgana is the rightful Queen of Camelot, and you are nothing more than a usurper; your Queen, a servant! _Akwele seo magdp!_" Morgause cast her spell forcefully as Medrault stepped aside to grant her an opening, but Merlin's shield was stronger. The magic that would have killed the Queen rebounded and felled it's caster before her eyes had even faded from gold back to brown. Arthur roared furiously and stepped in front of Guinevere, as the Knights closed ranks to defend their Lord and Lady, while Merlin approached the fallen sorceress. No one noticed Medraut slip out the doors and through the gates, but when the confusion had cleared, and the treachery been exposed, Arthur banished Medraut, for his blatant conspiracy with the sorceress, and declared that, should he ever be seen in Camelot again, the Knights had full permission to execute the traitor on the spot. Sir Elyan wished to head a search party to find Medraut and return him to Camelot for execution, but his sister the Queen, with Merlin's help, convinced him (and her husband) not to split Camelot's forces.

* * *

Mordred rode hard and fast on the horse gifted to him by Queen Guinevere when he had been knighted. She gave one to every new knight, but his was particularly small and devilishly fast. He reached Morgana's stronghold the next morning.

"I must see the Lady Morgana, true Queen of Camelot, from whence I come, bearing news of her sister." The guard nodded, recognizing the boy's importance, if not the boy himself. Moments later, Mordred was being shown to Morgana's make shift throne room

"You have news of my sister? Speak then, for she has long been away and I fear for her." Morgana demanded as soon as he knelt before her. He winced, sad she did not recognize him.

"My Lady, it seems you do not recognize me. It is Mordred who brings you news of the Lady Morgause."

"Mordred?" He can hear the smile in her voice, and looks up to see it gracing her lovely face. He returns the smile and bows his head once more, ready to tell his tale.

"Indeed. As you know, my lady, I have been training in Camelot, as Medraut. Arthur even knighted me. Several days ago, Emrys set a trap for your sister. She was captured and taken to Camelot."

"No!" Morgana's fear is evident as she watches Morded, horror-struck and eager for the rest of his news.

"Arthur had her thrown in the dungeons and executed the very next morning. He didn't even give her a trial – said that her past crimes were more than enough to convict her. I'm sorry, Morgana. She gave me her ring before the execution and asked me to tell you what had happened. I offered to try to save her, but she knew it would be useless. Emrys was right there, watching the whole time, and his precious King wanted her dead. I'm sorry." Mordred finished his recitation and held out the ring Morgause had given him. Morgana took it, her hand shaking and her face frighteningly pale.

"No trial? She spared his life once, did he not owe her the same courtesy? Arthur has always feared being powerless, and she had great magical ability. He must have thought that his pet sorcerer could not control her. So he had her –" Morgana broke off in a sob before she could utter the word. Then, suddenly, her face hardened, tear-stained cheeks only adding to the ferocity of her glare.

"Mordred, you have been trained well, of that I have no doubt. Arthur is a master swordsman, and expects all his Knights to be the same. I heard that you even sat at the Round Table: prove your strength now, and lead my armies against Camelot. We will take Arthur's kingdom and punish those who have wronged us. Go – I want the armies prepared to leave this time tomorrow."

And so Mordred had bowed, and gone to see to Morgana's army. A motley group, her soldiers consisted of the vengeful remnants of armies Arthur had decimated, as well as several Druids whose aggressive magic had made them unwelcome in Camelot. They had all heard tales of Mordred, the Druid who had escaped death at the hands of the tyrant Uther Pendragon; the sorcerer for whom no spell had required too much magic until the day that his quest for power lead to an incantation that sapped his magical strength; the spy who had entered Camelot and won the praise of the hated Arthur himself and earned a seat at the renowned Round Table. Mordred would have no trouble commanding these armies.

* * *

The battle was long. The Knights of the Round Table were justifiably famous for their lethal skill, and Emrys had yet to meet a sorcerer whose magic could stand up to his own. Arthur himself led the battle with frightening ability, and refused to be enticed into an impulsive mistake. Morgana had mentioned, given the Arthur she had grown up with, that Camelot's army would be nearly unbeatable, so long as Arthur followed his training (which he always did). She thought, however, that Mordred might be able to bait her brother's rash tendencies and thus ruin his clever strategy. So far, she had been proved correct on the first count and absolutely incorrect on the second. After three days of fighting, Mordred called a retreat, appointed his second-in-command as temporarily in charge, and rode for Morgana's castle with a few select soldiers. He had a plan, but he would need her magic to complete it.

That evening, having secured Morgana's assistance, though admittedly through the use of a tiny bit of subterfuge, Mordred and his escort settled down to wait. Morgana had wanted Arthur destroyed and now, with a bit of patience and luck, he would be.

* * *

Queen Guinevere decided, against Sir Leon's advice, to ride to Camlann, where Arthur and his army had fought and were now recovering. She would bring more medicine and bandages, as well as food and blankets. Arthur had left quite a few Knights, under the command of Sir Percival, to guard the city, and Gwen felt certain that there were more than enough for her to take a couple as her escort. Leaving Sir Gareth to look after Camelot and the remaining Knights in her absence, she left for the battlefield with four Knights riding with her.

Camlann was but a few hours' ride from Camelot – a large, even plain that had often hosted picnics and friendly contests, but had not been a battleground for many years. Gwen had even gone there once as a young girl, when the Uther and the King of Mercia had engaged their knights in a melée. She remembers seeing Arthur sitting next to his father, his golden hair reflecting the sunlight, watching the knights avidly for a couple minutes, before starting to fidget. She had been sure he would jump up and run to play with the other children, but the Prince had kept his seat, though he would throw longing glances to the children's games every few minutes. Uther had looked down his nose, disapproving, and Arthur had stopped at once, a statue that sat frozen the entire day rather than a boy, and Gwen had felt sorry for him.

She smiled at the memory and turned to ask Sir Bors, one of the older Knights, if he had been in the melée, when suddenly a sharp pain pierced her shoulder. After that, everything happened rather quickly: Sir Bors pulled her from her horse; the Knights formed a protective circle around her as shouts rang through the trees. A few moments of blinding pain and confused noise, and suddenly all was quiet and she was slumped on the ground.

"My Lady?" She refused to answer the voice. She was much too tired and in far too much pain.

"Queen Guinevere? Please, lady, do not sleep! We fear the arrow was poisoned." The voice again. Poison? Arrows? Abruptly, Gwen realized that she had been shot, that her Knights had defended her from attackers. She blinked, and Sir Bors came into focus. Gwen absently thought about how loyal and true the old Knight was, before registering his worried face.

"Sir Bors, we must leave this place. We must go to Arthur," she managed. He nodded, pleased she could speak and command, and lifted her onto his own horse.

"Beg your pardon, your highness, but you cannot ride alone and we must get to Camlann quickly." Gwen nodded her assent and was hazily aware of the next hour or so, as the four Knights rode hard toward their fellows and their King. Terrified as they were of Arthur's reaction to a wounded and poisoned Guinevere, their worry for their Queen spurred them on toward the camp. Strangely, they met no more trouble, despite all of the Knights having noticed the heraldry of Morgana's dark tree on the chests of the mysterious archers.

They reached camp, finally, as evening fell. Word spread quickly that four of the Knights who had been left to defend Camelot were now riding to the King's tent, bearing the injured Queen. One of the younger Knights, Sir Galahad, broke off to relay what had happened in the hopes of preventing rumors.

* * *

Arthur met his Knights before his tent, his face going pale as Sir Bors lowered an unconscious Guinevere down from his horse into Arthur's waiting arms. He staggered, and borrowed strength from Merlin, whose arms prevented him and his precious burden from crashing to the ground. Solid once more, he glanced at Merlin, who understood both the thanks and the instructions implicit, and entered his tent.

"Come on. Arthur will need to know what happened. Camelot is safe?" Merlin took over as Arthur made Gwen comfortable and composed himself within the tent. Turning, he led the way inside, where he and the three remaining Knights found their King awaiting report.

"Sire, we fear the arrow that pierced the Queen was poisoned," Sir Bors faltered, unsure of how to continue. Merlin unsurprisingly came to the rescue. He and the King were practically brothers, and worked together as two halves of the same whole. When Arthur was weak, Merlin defended him, and now was no different.

"We sent for the physician when we received word you were coming. He should be here any moment. I'll look her over, in the meantime, while you give your report."

Sir Bors began his tale, his own disbelief evident in his tone, with occasional input from the other two Knights. Arthur tensed visibly when the Knight described the Queen's injury and their brief skirmish, but Merlin continued his examination in silence.

"And then we rode to camp. We came as fast as we were able, and encountered no other archers. But, Sire, I don't understand. There were only four of us, but they fled after they hit the Queen. Strangest thing I've ever seen – they might have taken us, but instead they ran."

"They bore Morgana's tree, you say? You're sure of it?"

"Yes, Sire. Dark tree, grey background, just like Le Fey's banners."

"Very well. Wait outside. Merlin –" Arthur turned, and Merlin straightened, a grim look on his face. Arthur's voice faltered and he did not complete his question.

* * *

Merlin did not want to tell Arthur, not when his friend was looking at him like one word could shatter the strong king into a million tiny pieces.

"Arthur," he began, as gently as he could. He saw the look of panic his tone brought to Arthur's face and wished his magic could fix this. "Arthur, the arrow was enchanted. It's meant to kill its mark within twenty-four hours, unless the caster reverses the spell. I can't do it, we need…" He trailed off, not wanting to articulate this last, most grievous betrayal. Gwen had been her dearest friend, her sister, for so many years, and now…

"Arthur, I'm sorry. We'd need Morgana. She enchanted the arrow. There's nothing I can do."

Arthur didn't speak. He just turned his wide, terrified eyes onto Gwen's fevered body. Merlin didn't know if Arthur was even listening anymore, but he had to warn him.

"Arthur, I think she's trying to make you reckless. She's trying to get you to make a mistake. She wants you to give up." No response. Merlin was worried: Arthur did not grieve quietly. Finally, Arthur looked up.

"Were you listening Merlin? Sir Bors said the archer was Medraut: I trusted him! And Morgana!" Arthur broke off, his rage finally getting the better of him. "How could she do this to Guinevere? I know she hates me, but Guinevere was her best friend for years! How can she be willing to just sacrifice her like that? Merlin, you have to talk to her. Try to make her see sense before…" Arthur couldn't finish. Merlin nodded: he had known this was coming, after all.

"Arthur! The enemy has reassembled across the field. We think they mean to reengage in the morning." Gwaine burst into the tent, followed closely by Elyan, Lancelot, and an apologetic Bors. When they spotted the Queen lying lifelessly among Arthur's pillows, her dark curls glowing red in the firelight, Gwaine blinked, confused, as Elyan cried out his sister's name and Lancelot staggered.

"No! Arthur, what happened?" Gwaine was the first to regain his voice. "Galahad said she was injured, but she looks – she can't be –"

"She's dying," Arthur spoke, anger and pain lending strength to his words. "She is dying. Medraut hit her with an arrow Morgana cursed. Merlin's off to try to convince Morgana to reverse the enchantment, but if she was able to do this then I doubt she'll be moved to compassion. I'm going to kill Medraut – a knight so treacherous deserves neither his title nor his life, especially if he is willing to kill his Queen."

"Arthur –"

"Go, Merlin!"

"I am. But be careful. Gwen wouldn't want you to be rash –"

"Guinevere is _dying_, Merlin, and the Knight who killed her is leading an army against Camelot. Go!" Merlin inclined his head, his customary good-bye to the King, but then thought better of it. Moving past Arthur, he stood over Gwen, the first friend he made in Camelot.

"I love you, Gwen. You're the gentlest heart I know, and I am proud to call you Queen. Be at peace." Kissing her forehead, Merlin turned to face Arthur.

"You are a magnificent King, Arthur, and a great man. Fight well, Brother." Quickly, before Arthur could protest, Merlin grabbed him in a hug. To his surprise, Arthur hugged him back briefly, whispering a quiet "Thanks" in his ear, before shoving him away and giving him a look that clearly instructed him to leave to find Morgana. With one last nod to the Knights still in the tent, Merlin gathered his magic and willed himself to Morgana's castle, feeling as if he and all his friends were about to face their last stand. He silently wished them luck, and prepared to face his foe.

* * *

**The end! Well, this is quite **_**quite**_** unlike anything I have ever written before (it's a bit depressing, isn't it?), and I would really appreciate your input. I hope you liked it, and I hope you have an lovely day. **


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